


Thunder of a Distant Storm

by Moontyger



Series: Somebody Else's Story [4]
Category: Death Note
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-28
Updated: 2006-03-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 15:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontyger/pseuds/Moontyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because L was gone didn't mean Mello was going to accept that. He'd solve the case himself and exact vengeance while he was at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunder of a Distant Storm

**Author's Note:**

> This story is dedicated to [](http://annekate.livejournal.com/profile)[**annekate**](http://annekate.livejournal.com/) for the request and [](http://angryhamster.livejournal.com/profile)[**angryhamster**](http://angryhamster.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lefcadio.livejournal.com/profile)[**lefcadio**](http://lefcadio.livejournal.com/) for enthusiasm and encouragement.

The last thing Raito expected today was to be kidnapped. Yet there he was, walking down the street, when he suddenly felt something that must be a gun pressed into his back.

“Come with me and don't try anything. I won't hesitate to shoot,” a rough voice said in oddly accented yet fluent Japanese. And what else could he do? He went, although inside he was seething. How could he be so _helpless_? The Death Note was no help at all in this situation! Unless Ryuk... but no, Ryuk would be unlikely to intervene. Not just for this, at least.

“This is a very bad idea,” he said, keeping his rage out of his voice and managing to sound calm and unconcerned. “Do you know who I am? Who my father is?”

There was a grunt and then a quiet, “I know.” What could he want?

His captor urged him inside what appeared to be some sort of warehouse. When he shoved him towards a single chair hidden amongst crates, Raito saw his chance and lunged at him, hoping to get the gun away. Instead he calmly hit him with the hand with the gun in it. Pain bloomed like a garish tropical flower and his vision went black and then red. He dropped with a gasp.

By the time he could see again, could think again, he was securely tied to the chair by his wrists and ankles. He wanted to rub his face, to see if anything had broken, but he couldn't, so instead he spat blood and looked to see who his kidnapper was. _He's just a kid!_ he couldn't help thinking inanely when he saw him. A teenage boy, blond and too thin and dressed from head to toe in black leather, like something out of some pervert's wet dream. Yet he handled a gun with a confidence that suggested he knew how to use it. “Who _are_ you?” he asked. He knew he had never seen this boy before; what could he want with him?.

The boy sat on a futon opposite the chair (had he been living here? Why?) and produced a chocolate bar from somewhere, opening it and taking a bite before answering. “I'm the one who'll be asking the questions here,” he said. “Tell me everything about the Kira case. Especially everything you've learned since L died.”

His shock at this question flickered across his face momentarily, but was stifled so quickly that Raito doubted his captor had seen it, and didn't show in his voice at all. “L isn't dead. What gave you _that_ idea?”

He got up, walked over, and hit him again. This time it was just an open-handed slap, but on top of the previous blow, it made his head ring. “Don't lie to me!” He stalked back and sat down again, watching him thoughtfully, eating more chocolate. “Are you really so stupid as to think L didn't have a system set up to inform people if he died?”

Now it wasn't just the blows making his head spin. Someone had been informed? Who? How? Why? And who was this boy and why had he never said anything earlier if he knew L was dead? “Who would be informed?” he asked in a curious tone, as though he were merely idly wondering instead of hoping desperately for an answer. If there were a group that had been backing L, that knew he was dead, they would undoubtedly be looking for Kira... and for the person pretending to be L. Either way, he could be in trouble from adversaries he knew nothing about.

He received a disgusted look in response. “Answer the question.”

“Why do you think I would know?” But when he stood up, ready to hit him again, Raito decided he might as well answer. It wasn't like anything he said would lead this kid to Kira, after all.

The boy finished his chocolate bar and dropped the wrapper on the floor. “So, basically, you've made no progress at all since then.” His expression was contemptuous. “Damn, do you make a lousy L.”

“What? But...” Who _was_ this kid and how did he know so much? How he wished he had someone here with the eyes who would actually help him! He could hear Ryuk laughing like crazy behind him and it took effort not to yell at him to either help out and kill this kid or shut up.

“You didn't think I'd figure it out? Not that difficult when you know L is dead and start looking into things.” His grin was cocky and made him look even younger. “I must say I am rather disappointed so far.”

“L said I would be a good successor for him!” Why the hell was he so defensive about it? Why should he care what this boy thought about him?

Raito was shocked, however, by the look of rage on his captor's face at this statement. He bounced to his feet in an instant, but then stopped and seemed to think before sitting down again. “Maybe he did say that, but he was either trying to manipulate you or made a mistake in judgment. The first seems far more likely. Or maybe you don't actually want to solve the case?” He appeared to ponder this idea.

Raito knew he had to change the subject quickly; he couldn't afford to have anyone thinking too much about that possibility. So he asked the first thing that came into his head. “Were _you_ supposed to be his successor?”

“No.” His expression was odd, almost angry and yet sad at the same time, something that spoke of old pain. If this boy wasn't L's successor, Raito suspected he knew who was. How to get it out of him? Before he could decide, he asked another, somewhat unexpected question. “Tell me about L's death.”

That one was hard. Not the facts, no. But how he felt about it, the potent mix of triumph and regret, joy at an obstacle removed and sorrow at the suspicion that he would always miss him. He tried to limit his response only to the facts known by the others in the room that day, tried to keep his voice an expressionless monotone, but he wasn't sure he was that successful.

But maybe it didn't matter, as the look on his interrogator's face was one of raw, half-healed wounds ripped open again, as though merely listening to his words brought him terrible pain, yet he forced himself to do it anyway.

“What was L to you?” Raito asked. It was a risk, letting him know he had revealed more than he had probably intended, but he wanted to know, for practical and personal reasons. As he watched him hesitate, an odd possibility occurred to him. Surely not, this boy had to be too young, but still, with the way he was dressed and the way he was acting... “Were you... L's lover?”

“And if I were?” The way he smiled at him said that Raito had guessed correctly. Interesting. He wished he knew how this boy had known L well enough to be his lover in the first place. Regardless, it gave him something to work with. Even if he hadn't actually been his lover and had merely wished he were, the fact that he had clearly been in love with L (and didn't even bother to hide it!) made it almost too easy.

Raito gave him a superior smile as he raked him up and down with a gaze that said he was mentally undressing him. He shifted uncomfortably under that look, a hand tightening on the gun while the other unwrapped another chocolate bar with an ease that spoke of long habit. “I wouldn't have thought a boytoy like you would be L's type,” he said casually, shrugging. He paused to let the insult sink in before continuing. “Maybe that's why he never mentioned you when we were fucking.”

His rage at this was almost awesome to behold and Raito was even a little afraid, his shrinking back at his approach not entirely feigned. What if he had pushed him too far and he really did kill him? For now, his captor didn't shoot, might honestly have been too angry to think to use the gun, but he hit him, over and over, adding some kicks with boots that he'd swear were steel-toed. Raito closed his eyes and endured. Better to be beaten physically than have this boy who obviously knew far too much and was far too intelligent for safety realize that he was Kira. As volatile as he was, he suspected he would kill him outright as vengeance rather than spend time trying to prove his guilt.

When it stopped, he opened his eyes cautiously to see him still standing over him, breathing heavily, gloved fists clenched. Raito licked blood off the corner of his mouth and watched L's former lover watch him. He was surprised to find that he was actually rather turned on by the sight of him standing there, dressed in that leather that looked painted on, face flushed and chest heaving.

Well. He hadn't expected to feel that, but he could use it. He had intended to continue to manipulate his captor anyway, to keep him off balance; sex was merely another way to do that. Raito leaned toward him as best he could, given the restraints. “Kiss me,” he whispered.

“What?” He looked genuinely shocked. “Are you _crazy_? Me beating you got you off or something?” He pulled out another chocolate bar and ripped the wrapper off angrily.

Raito licked his lips again and saw him watching the movement of his tongue. Even bruised and bleeding, it felt like victory. “Aren't you curious?” he asked, still in a husky whisper. “Don't you want to know what your lover saw in me? I wonder that about you.”

“You're a filthy liar.” He bit off a piece of chocolate forcefully and Raito shivered, wondering if he were wishing it were him he was biting. He'd never thought this would turn him on and yet... maybe it was just the extra adrenaline. Or the chance to manipulate someone who might finally be a worthy adversary again. Or perhaps it was the chance to learn more about L, even in death a mystery he couldn't solve, that excited him.

“I'm not. But if it comforts you, you can think he did it just to manipulate me. He really didn't mention you, but then again, he didn't tell me anything about himself or his past, so why would he say anything about the lover waiting for him?” He offered this as an apology and watched carefully to see his reaction. He'd really prefer to avoid more violence, if possible.

There was a long silence. “Not like it matters now, anyway.” He said it sullenly and Raito could tell he was still hurt. He was surprised that this kid could love L so much and that his feelings had faded so little with time that his loss was still so painful and raw. It made it so very easy to hurt him even more. And yet how loyal he would be, if he could only convince him that it was _Raito_ he wanted to work with, who deserved his devotion.

“Kiss me,” he said again. He wanted that fierce loyalty for himself, wanted to know all the secrets this boy knew. Raito wanted to see what he looked like flushed with a passion other than anger, to see whose name he would cry out in bed. But it was only for the purpose of manipulation, of course. And even if it wasn't, even if he _did_ honestly desire him, it would still serve that purpose admirably and that was good enough reason to try. This was hardly the ideal situation for a seduction, but that didn't mean he wouldn't succeed; he just had to find the right buttons to press.

“You just want me to untie you.” He was watching Raito warily, slowly licking the chocolate bar he held in a manner that was really unfairly erotic if he had no sexual intentions.

“Yes.” No point in not admitting it; it was too obviously true. “But I want you, too. I won't run, I promise,” Raito whispered, staring directly into his eyes, ignoring the fact that one of his seemed to be rapidly swelling shut. It was annoying to have to try this looking such a mess, but it was hardly _his_ fault. And maybe it would make him look like less of a threat. Hell, he was probably injured enough that he really _was_ less of a threat right now. “Or are you afraid? Don't want to risk not being in complete control, not having me helpless and unable to fight back?” he asked, his tone both taunting and seductive. If he couldn't be seduced outright, what about dared?

Anger flared again in his face, his eyes. Such fire behind that androgynous prettiness! Ah, that did it. His kiss was fierce, angry and possessive and tasting of chocolate, but Raito knew he was the one who had won. Almost amusing how like L he was in some ways. L couldn't stand to lose, either, and hated to back down from a challenge. So predictable!

His captor sat on Raito's lap, straddling him, and pressed tightly against him. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked in a husky, teasing whisper, nipping lightly at an earlobe.

“Yes.” At least, what he had wanted discounting that he didn't like being this helpless. It reminded him unpleasantly of being chained to L, only worse. He tested his bonds again, but they held.

“You don't like it, do you? Being restrained, at my mercy, knowing that I can give you pain,” and he twisted a nipple far too hard with a gloved hand, making Raito gasp at the sharp burst of pain. “Or pleasure,” rubbing against him now, grinding their pelvises together, sucking on his throat and gently licking along the artery just under the skin, “at my whim, and you can do nothing about it?” His voice was uneven yet taunting, with hints of something darker than lust in it. Raito shivered at the reminder that this boy was dangerous and maybe not completely sane. Yet it only made him want him more. There was something so intoxicating about the danger, someone who really might be able to hurt him, defeat him. He needed that, felt only half-alive without it.

He watched as his captor slid to his knees with almost liquid grace, leather creaking at the movement, and slowly unzipped Raito's pants. He pulled his erect cock free and looked up at him, holding it. “I like that you don't like it,” he said, and bent to take it in his mouth, running his tongue around the head once, twice. “Because I don't like you.” He blew across the wet tip, watched him shiver. “You were there, with L when he died, when it should have been _me_!” So much rage in that voice, so much pain that Raito trembled at the force of it, with wanting it.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want him to die.” True and not true, a lie and not, that statement. But the fear in his voice was real enough. What he had started here was playing with fire, more so than he had realized. If he won, he could learn things he needed to know. If he lost, he could lose everything.

Whether or not this boy had been L's lover, he had surely been someone's. For all Raito knew, he was a whore by profession, although the past connections to L, the things he knew, made him doubt it. The mouth on him was far too talented to be that of a virgin, however. No one sucked cock like that their first time! Raito groaned and then whimpered, wishing he were free to move, trying anyway. Damn but it felt _good_ and all the pain elsewhere faded to dull background noise, hardly noticeable.

When he stopped, it took Raito a moment to realize that he wasn't going to start again and a moment longer than that to open his eyes, try to figure out why. He ached with need, trembling on the edge of orgasm, but he tried to make his brain work.

The boy, both tormentor and prey, sat on the floor, watching him, waiting for him to meet his gaze. He was trembling, too, and his eyes burned like coals, aflame with so many emotions Raito couldn't read them as anything other than passion, couldn't separate the strands in the molten snarl. “I _hate_ you,” he growled. “I was waiting for him to come back for me and he _never_ did because he was with _you_! Because he was with _you_ , he died! You let him die!”

Before he could react, brace himself, he was on Raito like a blond fury, hitting him again, then kissing him ferociously, as though he were starving for it, while his hands fumbled behind the chair at the ties around his wrists. It was like being caught up in a tidal wave, a volcanic eruption, some sort of natural disaster that he couldn't fight but merely had to go along with. So he did; why waste energy fighting the inevitable? Plenty of time later to exert control. And he was sure he _could_ control him, if he did it right.

Right now, he had bigger worries. When he tried to stand, his vision went black and his knees startled to buckle. Wiry arms caught him before he hit the floor, guided him almost gently to sit on the futon, urged him to lie down. Raito closed his eyes and waited for the world to stop spinning.

When he opened them again, he saw his... his what? Captor? Lover? Prey? He wasn't sure what this boy really was to him anymore. Whatever he was, he was sitting between Raito's spread legs, watching his face. His chest was bare now but for a rosary with garnet beads and his skin looked even paler in contrast to it and the stark black of the pants he was still wearing. Such fair skin reminded him of L, reminded him of things he didn't want to remember about L. A brief mental image, of skin just as pale and another, more familiar, face flushed in passion, before he shoved it away. Raito didn't think about that, ever.

His anger at being reminded of things he didn't allow himself to remember must have shown in his eyes because he watched the man (surely he shouldn't think of him as a boy, not now, yet he can't seem to stop) so close to him slowly smile an unkind, almost predatory smile. He sensed weakness, Raito knew, like any wild creature might. If there were anything this boy _wasn't_ , it was tame.

His voice was predatory now, too. Raito felt as though he were being slowly circled, his defenses tested. “Are you sure you still want this? If you're too unwell, we can stop now and I can go back to asking you questions.” The edge of his smile was razor-sharp. Oh yes, he definitely sensed weakness and wanted to pounce.

But Raito wouldn't let himself be afraid; he wasn't as vulnerable as all _that_. And he also, like L and this nameless boy, didn't back down from a challenge. “Of course I want to continue. And you do, too; don't try to deny it.” His eyes flicked meaningfully to the obvious bulge in those far too tight pants, hoping to provoke embarrassment, maybe a blush. All he got was a cocky grin.

“Then that was your last chance. I won't stop now, no matter what you say.” He stood and kicked off his boots before unlacing his pants and sliding them down. He made a show out of it and Raito couldn't help but watch, watch and be the appreciative audience he clearly wanted. Damn, but he really was beautiful. Too thin, probably still growing, but breath-taking all the same. Raito frankly stared, drinking it in, shoving the questions that kept bothering him, the thoughts pointing out that surely it couldn't be that hard to find information on someone who looked like _that_ , to the back of his mind. He could act on them later.

He struck a pose and laughed. “You don't have to look at me like that. We both know that's not what this is about.” Raito looked away, didn't say that maybe it was, at least in part. It wasn't all of it, nor perhaps the most important part, but he couldn't deny that the attraction was there. This strange boy was a bonfire and he longed to be burned. For now, he watched him open his shirt and slide it off him carefully, revealing the evidence of the ways he'd already been burned by him in the bruises forming like a sunset on his skin. He was definitely going to look a mess for awhile. Anger flared at this sacrilege – how _dare_ he do this to a _god_ – before he suppressed it. He'd make him pay later, at his leisure. He, Raito, would be the one to tame this wild creature, tame him and then break him, and he'd enjoy it.

Raito watched him produce a condom and tear the wrapper with his teeth and nearly laughed at the absurdity of it. This insane boytoy kidnapped him at gunpoint, beat the shit out of him, but used a condom to fuck him? How unexpectedly cautious!

Of course, Raito hadn't intended to _let_ him fuck him, either; so maybe they were both behaving inconsistently. To try and stop it now would be to lose, so he braced himself, knowing the lack of preparation would make it hurt even if the condom _was_ lubricated, but he still wasn't really prepared for the fresh pain that tore into him. A grunt escaped him, despite his clenched teeth.

“I hope you don't want me to stop. I already told you I wasn't going to.” His voice was mocking, but his eyes were cold, almost empty. What had he done with all his rage, his lust, his hate? Had he succeeded in controlling it, locking it away inside of him? That would never do. It was that _passion_ that Raito really wanted and he wouldn't settle for just the shell, however beautiful.

Well, he should be easy enough to provoke. “I should have realized you wouldn't have experience as seme; somehow I doubt L played uke for you. If you were really L's lover at all.” Yes, that was better, although not full-blown fury yet. Raito wanted to make him lose control.

“Sorry to disappoint you. But you could hardly be seme; you couldn't even stand up without passing out.” Anger in his voice, in the rough way he thrust into him, but it still wasn't enough. So he pushed more.

“I could still do a better job at it than you. Just like I am a better L than you could ever be.” _That_ had definitely been the right thing to say. That pretty face was twisted and nearly purple with rage and he put his hands around Raito's throat and started squeezing. Yet even as he struggled for breath, a part of him was laughing. _Yes_ , this was what he wanted, to ride the lightning, not merely hear the thunder of a distant storm. He had won, made this arrogant boy give him a gift he hadn't wanted to give. He just hadn't realized he'd lost yet.

Those hands left his throat before he lost consciousness, but it didn't take away his victory. Nor was the rage fully leashed yet; Raito could still feel it in his fierce, hard kisses and bites, the scrape of nails over his already abused skin. He felt it in the rough wildness of the sex itself as his prey fucked him hard and fast, heard it in the cries he made, ragged needy moans that he shuddered with pleasure to hear.

Raito wasn't surprised that he came first, considering how close to the edge he had been after that blow job, nor that his orgasm was intense, hot and blinding. This whole _experience_ had been unusually intense and he loved it, craved more of it. He wasn't surprised, either, that it wasn't _his_ name his new toy cried out as he came; that would change in time and he could wait. Raito hadn't expected, however, for the word to mean nothing at all to him. Near? Was that even a name? And if it was, who the hell was it and what was he (or she) to this boy? Even more importantly, what had he been to L, if he'd even known him? He wondered if he even knew what he had said and what it meant to him if he did. For all he knew, this boy had a lover waiting for him somewhere, just as L had apparently had. Raito vowed to do his best to make sure this one never came back either.

“Why don't you could come work with us,” he offered. “You could help us catch Kira, help me be a better L, one you might find worthy of the name.” He hoped he would take him up on it, that sex had dulled his predator's senses enough that he wouldn't see the trap waiting for him. If he stayed, eventually he'd learn where this foreign boy came from, who Near was, where to find L's real successor, how to neutralize all of those connected with his former rival. And then he'd kill him, of course. This boy was far too much of a weakness, far too _dangerous_ , to leave alive, just as L had been.

“Why would I want to do _that_? You haven't made any progress. And look what happened to L when he worked with you! I'll find Kira on my own and make him pay for what he did.” Determination glowed like embers in the dark eyes that contrasted so strangely with his pale hair and skin. Raito watched admiringly and wondered if anything could quench that fire. He wanted to find out, to be the one to do it, to watch it fading from his eyes as they closed forever.

“Vengeance,” Raito mused, watching the boy still in bed with him, still naked, thoughtfully. He trailed a hand lightly over a bare hip, as though he were in the beginning throes of infatuation and wanted to keep touching him. “Isn't that more Kira's territory? Are you sure you're on the right side?”

He jerked away and sat up, glaring. Raito watched him with a deliberately sleepy gaze, although his heart was pounding and his mind was racing. “You think I'd be a Kira follower?” His tone made it an obscenity and his hands were clenched into fists so tight that the knuckles were white. “I'm on nobody's side but my own, but I will _never_ forgive Kira for what he took from me!”

Well, it had really been too much to hope for, that Kira could use him openly, without deception. A shame this beautiful creature had been in love with someone that had to be eliminated. Well, he'd asked as L and now as Kira, even if the one he had asked hadn't realized that was what he'd done. Now he'd ask a third time as himself, just Yagami Raito, a man who wanted to keep his new infatuation around. He forced Kira away within his mind, made himself be the man instead of the god. He could still do that now, although it grew increasingly more difficult. Soon, he might not be able to do it at all, and sometimes he didn't know if he feared or longed for that day: the day when he would know that the last remnants of his humanity were finally lost. “Stay with me, then. Not as my assistant, unless you want to be. But as my lover.”

The look he got in response to this request was frankly skeptical, but something in his expression must have convinced him of Raito's sincerity. And he _was_ sincere, for the moment. The boy, both the object of his desire and his still elusive prey, stood up and started to dress, deliberately not meeting Raito's eyes. “If _that's_ the way to your heart, you have some serious issues and right now, that is the last thing I need. Plus, I have plans, plans that don't involve me staying in Japan. Sorry.”

Raito was honestly rather surprised. This boy was desperately needy, starved for affection, and he hadn't thought he'd be able to refuse it when it was offered seemingly freely. Of course, it wasn't really free; the trap was still there. Even if he fell in love with him, Raito would still use him and then destroy him. He just hadn't expected him to see it. He was even more surprised when he knelt and began to dress Raito again with gentle hands. “You're going to hurt too much soon to be able to do this on your own and I'm not going to leave you here naked,” he explained in a gruff voice, in answer to a question that hadn't been asked.

“Didn't you have more questions to ask me?”

“Just one.” He stood and looked back at Raito and his expression was honestly regretful. He felt a faint leap of hope (maybe he'd change his mind?) that was quashed when he heard the question. “Where is L's grave?”

Raito told him, of course. He didn't think he'd hit him again if he didn't, but it was the one question to which he couldn't deny him an answer. Raito even took his utter refusal to provide more information about L to put on his tombstone, information he knew he had to know, with rare grace. At the last, he made a request. Just for this short while, he was only himself again, deliberately not letting himself think as Kira, and he let himself be weak. A man could be weak where a god never was. “Tell him,” he said, surprised at how much it hurt to even say, “that I'm sorry.”

“I will.” Suddenly, unexpectedly, a skinny blond whirlwind was in his arms again, crying and kissing him and clinging to him. All he could do was try to hold him, though his body protested. Raito knew he hadn't changed his mind, would probably never change his mind, and he wanted to hold him while he could, wanted to have this little piece of what could have been. Even if it would torment him later, adding to the ghostly regrets that haunted him at times when he couldn't sleep.

This time, when he stood, he met Raito's eyes. “I'm sorry,” he said. “That it had to be this way, that I hurt you, and that I can't stay. If things were different... but they're not and we both have a job to do.” He turned and started to walk away.

Raito tore himself away from admiring his ass in those sinful pants. “Wait!” The boy who was once again a stranger turned and looked back, questioningly. “You know where to find me, if you ever change your mind.”

“Yeah.” He started to leave, then turned back once more. “Your cell phone is on the chair. It'll hurt, but you can get there. But it should take you long enough that I'll be gone before you can call anyone.” He gave a jaunty wave and left, not looking back. Soon, only Raito's bruises and the ache inside him remained to testify that he had ever been there at all.  



End file.
